Isolated Fortress
by NCR Ranger
Summary: Spirit of Fire has been adrift for years, surrounded by the sound of silence. In the vastness of space, though, somebody will inevitably find you..
" _Exitus Acta Probat. "_

 _-_ Motto of the _Spirit of Fire,_ meaning " The result justifies the deed. "

" Douglass is out of ammo ! Jerome, cover us ! "

" Already on it. "

Spartan 2 Alice-023 doggedly dragged her fellow Spartan along the cold tempered deck plates of one of the UNSC _Spirit of Fire_ 's utility corridors. Most of the lights were out, or only flickering , the only real illumination coming from her and Jerome's helmet flashlights…and the muzzleflash of Jerome's BR55 as it spat bullets downrange…

" _Brram….brrram…brrram "_

" _..geeeaurgh ! "_

Some of these rounds hit home, and one of their pursuing foes went down, with a heavy thudding sound echoing down the corridor. But it was just a drop in the bucket; even as that doomed alien- of course it was the Covenant, who else could board a UNSC ship-went down, his comrades bellowed in angry contempt, and guttural cacophony of spine chilling primal bellows…of the Jiralhane. Tall, bulky, musclebound ( and furry..) these aggressive aliens had spearheaded the attack on Harvest at the beginning of the Human Covenant war.

The Brutes. With their size, strength, natural toughness and their bloodlust mindset while wielding their own arsenal of weapons that looked as though they'd been built in a torture chamber..it wasn't too surprising how many casualties they'd inflicted on the Harvest's colonists during the invasion. The vicious creatures had been on the front lines of the interstellar war ever since, clashing repeatedly with SOF's forces as they fought the Covenant across 3 different worlds, culminating with the dramatic use of the SOF's reactor core as an improvised bomb to stop the Covenant from taking control of a vast fleet of Forerunner vessels, stored within one of their mysterious " Shield Worlds. "

That should've been the last battle against them for the SOF

Yet here they were again.

Red Team found that out the hard way. They'd been on patrol though the deserted confines of Sub Deck 14, after being thawed from Cryo to take a needed break from its long term effects. With the SOF running on just a skeleton crew, with the rest remaining in cryo until it was their turn to be cycled out, the ship was a quasi ghost one. It was quiet..but not too quiet.

Suited and armed up, they moved out, taking Sub Deck 14 first, as it was closest to the Spartan 2 cryo pod banks. Douglass, on point, led them through one empty, dimly lit equipment cluttered corridor after another, with no sign of any hostile activity. Nothing but the low humming of overhead lights, and the clank of their own boots to fit the silence, and a brief radio update to Serina ( with Captain Cutter having just returned to cryo ). .

Things had been going by the numbers, and Red Team expected to simply finish their graveyard patrol, and rerun to cryo..

Until a reverberating crash from up ahead shattered the air…

And Serina shouted through their comms:

" Red Team ! We're being boarded ! "

* * *

 _Braam ! braam !_

Jerome fired burst after burst into the advancing Jiralhanare pack, just 50 yards away. Each burst was like its own flashbang, illuminating a section of corridor

" _brrram…brram…click….! "_

He was out as well. Uttering a client expletive, he checked himself for more ammunition, but there was none. Red Team had not a round left..and the enemy was not far behind.

Gritting his teeth, Jerome unsheathed his serrated combat knife, glaring into the gloom in front of them. " Alice, weapons dry. "

He glanced at Douglas' bio-signs on his HUD. " He's still bleeding ! "

"…And they're still after us…" Alice continued to drag the limp Douglass, who's boots left small trails of sparks as they scarred the deck. His right hand dragged along too, fingers somehow still entangled around his empty M6 pistol…

No ammo, one their number was down for the count, and a powerful hostile force was is in hot pursuit. It was the kind of grim situation that Spartans,2's and 3's alike, were trained for, but this was was worse than most. Red team was on their own, with empty weapons, and under attack by Brutes, the towering, salivating, heavyweights of the Covenant warrior caste.

The original spartans would be proud…

On the bridge, a recently unthawed and still slightly chilly Captain James Cutter absentmindedly wiped condensation-or was it sweat ?-off his forehead and the sleeves of his uniform as he oversaw the harried command crew, frantically working their brightly lit consoles as they tried to get a handle on the situation. Most of them had been taken from cryo or woken up from regular sleeping less than 20 minutes ago, and were still trying to fully surface from its effects, while checking the status of all the ship's vital systems, responding to the distress calls coming in from every deck, then trying to organize the garrisoned troops to contain the threat..

It was slightly chaotic….

" Sir ! Hostiles have taken Hangars 1 and 2. They've advanced into the main access corridors …!"

"…Is the reactor locked down ? Routing Firewall Company to that location.."

" ..Understood. Hold your position, Katana Actual ! "

Watching his crew communicating so smoothly and seamlessly with each other and the Marines, Soldiers and fellow sailors across the SOF, even under such pressure, was not new to Cutter. They'd already shown they could pull together like a well oiled machine, a perfectly tuned orchestra. Nobody was missing a beat. Flawless teamwork, as Cutter had learned a long time ago from the exploits of Preston Cole's victories during the Harvest .It was essential for a UNSC naval crew, in the face of the Covenant fleet with its massive size and devastating firepower, to always remain calm. When plasma torpedoes and energy projectors were lancing your way, you had to focus on using every tool and tactic at your disposal to stay alive.

That, and not being outnumbered 3 to at relatively close range, as far as space combat was concerned, was a trio of Covenant CSV cruisers. The eggplant purple, oblong vessels were the backbone of the enemy naval arm, and between their dense paced plasma torpedoes, energy projectors, point defense lasers, and glassing beams, they carried enough firepower to glass a city the size of New York.

So, why weren't they firing ?

" Serina, why aren't those cruisers engaging ? ", Cutter asked the SOF's AI, as he examined the holograms of said cruisers on the main display console in the center of the room. 3 CSV class cruisers of the Covenant navy were arrayed in a loose fan formation downrange of the Fire, but so far…none of them had fired a single torpedo.

That was not like the Covenant he knew, hated, and fought. They never fired just one torpedo when they could use 30, but no plasma had hit them yet. Even though they were being boarded, the Covenant should still have opened fire by now…

" Its one of the great mysteries of our time, isn't it ? "

Serina's prim British accent came through clearly despite the noise filling the bridge. Her avatar, of a slender, beautiful raven haired woman in the garb of a scientist, " stood " in the center of the console, hands behind her back, head tipped slightly to one side in an annoyingly innocent pose.

" Serina…" Cutter promptly switched to his best " cut it out " voice. " What can you tell me ? "

The AI amicably shrugged her shoulders. It was hard to upset her. " The Covenant ships are deploying their remaining dropships, it seems. They're clearly focused on capturing the Spirit of Fire intact…Of course…". She made a slightly dismissive gesture behind her. "..it might just be becasue they already have a whole battalion besieging us across the lower decks-".

"..Lower decks..damn.! "

If it was possible for an AI to glare at someone, Serina was probably doing that right now. Her somewhat uppity programming didn't appreciate being interrupted.

" ..Red Team ! " Cutter gripped the console with both hands, grimly staring at the display. " Serina, Red Team was in cryoSub-deck 14. What's their status ?! "

After a nearly inaudible sigh of annoyance for the perceived injustice of being interrupted, Serina made another small gesture, then appeared to me mildly surprised.

" Sir…"

" On with it ! " Cutter put more steel in his voice.

"..One of their life signs is fading fast. "

* * *

Back down in the shadows of Sub Deck 14, the two conscious members of Red Team paused to assess their less than ideal situation.

"…I've stabilized him for now.." Alice noted softly, rolling the empty biofoam canister away. It clinked like a empty soda can against the cold metal armor plates..

A few yards away, Jerome stepped back from the recently sealed access bulkhead, where he'd been poised in front of as Alice worked, his blade still held firmly in his right hand.

"..Some good news at least. " He made his way over to them, pausing to look at Douglass' prone from. " They still didn't get any of us..yet. "

Alice nodded slightly. " Not yet….but his gun's empty. So is mine and yours. Still got your knife though. "

" Yeah, but it won't help much unless we get backup soon. ", Jerome replied as he warily returned the knife to its sheath. " In the meantime..we got to keep heading up. " Down in Sub-deck 14…they definitely weren't going to find any fellow UNSC personnel, for reinforcement or to help get Douglas back on his feet. Never mind that the hostiles that had wounded him still had them outnumbered, outgunned, and were stubbornly still in pursuit.

It was the definition of a bad situation, even for Spartans.


End file.
